User blog:Rough Fang/The Spider
Edgar woke up leaning against a brick wall with a throbbing pain at the base of his skull. Spots of light danced before his eyes. Cold wind stung his face. He moaned as he tried to sit up straight. He leaned to his left before he suddenly realized there was nothing there. He sat up straight and as the spots cleared, he realized it was nighttime and he was sitting on a wide ledge, about nine stories up. "What happened?" he thought as he peered over the edge. Then he noticed a man sitting in front of him, holding a rope. The man looked to be somewhere in his late twenties and sported a faint stubble. His hair was short but messy and he wore a black jacket over an orange shirt and jeans. His eyes were blank and cold, but carried a glint of sadistic pleasure, like the soulless eyes of a spider watching its prey struggling in a web. With a start, Edgar recognized this man. This was the man he had been sent to kill. "Balthazar Araeneolus." Edgar spoke, the words stinging his tongue as they left his lips. "Ah, I see my reputation precedes me." Balthazar said with a pleasant smile that betrayed his true, murderous nature. Edgar frantically reached for the pistol hidden under his coat, but to his surprise, there was nothing there. Balthazar raised an eyebrow. Edgar silently cursed his own stupidity. "Of course he would have disarmed me." he thought, "What was I thinking?" Edgar scrambled to his feet just as Balthazar yanked on the rope he was holding. Edgar yelped as he felt something tighten around his neck and pull him to the floor. Balthazar grinned-a cold toothy smile that sent shivers down Edgar's spine. He stepped over Edgar's body so that he was now behind him. "I wouldn't move if I were you." he whispered as he leaned closer. "Right now I've got your neck in a hangman's noose. One wrong move and I'll throw you off the ledge and, well, you can guess what happens next." Edgar sat up and rubbed his sore neck. "Now tell me boy, who is your employer?" Edgar decided to feign ignorance. "What are you talking about?" The noose tightened around Edgar's neck and he gasped. "You know what I'm talking about." Balthazar growled viciously. "You're the third assassin I've met this week, and it's only Tuesday. Who sent you?" "I...I'm not telling..." Edgar choked. He had stopped struggling and his face was turning a hideous shade of vermillion. Balthazar glared at him for a while before loosening the noose. Edgar coughed and retched. "I'm giving you one last chance. Remember-I'm only keeping you alive for information. If you don't talk, I can just kill you right now. So, who is it that wants me dead?" Edgar managed a laugh, but it turned into a cough. "The real question is who wouldn't want you dead?" Although Edgar couldn't see him, he could feel Balthazar tensing up, as if he was producing an aura of rage that Edgar could feel on the back of his neck. Edgar realized he might be tossed off the roof any minute, but he continued taunting-he wasn't going to let his killer get the last laugh. "Do you have any idea how many people you've killed? How many people are out for vengeance against you? Out in public, you may be practically invisible, but the whole criminal underworld is constantly buzzing with news about the infamous Balthazar Araeneolus, the elusive mass murderer who has slaughtered hundreds of the greatest crime lords of the 21st Century. You're on wanted posters in 17 different countries. Terrorists, mafia bosses, kingpins, they're all out to get you. I'm just the beginning. Soon you'll have more assassins after you than anyone else on the planet. Not even you would be able to hold them off for long. You can kill me sure, but that won’t stop them from coming. You’re dead meat either way." Silence. For a full minute, Balthazar said nothing. Edgar simply say there, the noose slack around his neck, bracing himself for the rope to tighten and for Death’s cold grasp to grab him by the wrist and whisk him off to Hell. In a way, those few seconds of silence were worse than simply dying on the spot. Edgar was almost relieved when Balthazar finally spoke. "My last name, Araeneolus, do you know what that means, dear boy?" Edgar didn't answer. To be honest, he was afraid to. "It means 'spider'. It's not my real name of course. I chose this alias because that's what I was- soulless, patient, murderous, hungry." He stooped down next to Edgar's ear. Cold sweat rolled down Edgar's face as he felt Balthazar's breath on the side of his head. “And when a fly enters my web, I make sure it never makes it out alive." Edgar only had time to scream before Balthazar threw him off the edge. He grabbed the end of the rope, laughing as the rope pulled taut. Beneath his feet Edgar dangled, hopelessly flailing about and clawing at his neck as he slowly suffocated. Balthazar's demented laughter rang in his ears-an unholy sound he knew would follow him into the afterlife. The assassin's face turned red, and then purple, and then a sickly shade of blue. Then all of a sudden, his struggle was over. Balthazar hauled his body back onto the ledge like a fisherman reeling in his catch and examined the corpse. As he ran his hands down Edgar's lifeless body, he grinned and for a moment madness seemed to flash in his dark eyes. "Poor little fly." Balthazar mused before he untied the noose from around the carcass's neck and kicked it off the ledge. Category:Blog posts